


No Complaints Here

by satiredichotomy



Series: You Live, You Learn [1]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Episode: s01e03 Context is for Kings, space boos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 12:05:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12864156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satiredichotomy/pseuds/satiredichotomy
Summary: Paul Stamets' friend - his *only* friend - was dead.





	No Complaints Here

**Author's Note:**

> Technically, this is a coda to Context Is for Kings, but it uses minor info we learn about Culmets in later episodes. This is the first in a series of fics which fill in some of the gaps in the episodes of Chapter One.
> 
> I haven't written fic in a *very* long time, so if you like this, I'd really appreciate the feedback!

Hugh finds him in the cultivation bay. He’s not easily found; this is his domain above all else, but Hugh’s spent enough time tracking Paul down to know where to look. Paul’s staring at one PADD while furiously inputting data into another, and doesn’t seem aware of Hugh’s presence at all.

“Hey,” he says quietly, not wanting to startle the working man.

It doesn’t work. Paul jumps a mile in the air. “Give me some warning, will you,” he says once he catches his breath.

Hugh can’t stop the small smile that appears on his lips. “That was the warning,” he replies. “It’s late. Your shift ended hours ago. Have you eaten dinner?”

“Not yet,” Paul admits. “But I’m not hungry. You go ahead, I’ll see you in our quarters once I’m done.”

 _Not bloody likely_ , Hugh thinks to himself. He has his suspicions about Paul’s behaviour, but he knows better than to put words in his partner’s mouth. “Okay,” he agrees affably. “How long do you think it’ll take? I’ve got a few things to work on, I’ll bring them over and work here too.”

Paul narrows his eyes. “I don’t need babysitting,” he snaps.

“I didn’t say that you did. But it’s been a really long day and I’d rather not spend the rest of it on my own. So if you won’t come home, let me at least stay here with you.”

“You’re not subtle, you know that right?” comes the sharp reply. Hugh works hard to keep his face blank. Some days Paul really does test him. But at least things don’t devolve into an argument. Paul rolls his eyes, but he starts stacking his PADDs and gets to his feet.

+++

Paul deliberately does not engage in conversation with Hugh on the way to their quarters. He knows exactly what Hugh is doing. His doctor is a predictable man.

Hugh walks to the small table and opens a container. “I grabbed some food from the mess hall earlier. I figured you wouldn’t have had time to eat.” He grabs two plates and portions out the food, while Paul winces.

“I’m really not hungry, Hugh,” he says again, willing his partner to stop pushing. “I’m going to take a shower." Paul turns around before Hugh has a chance to say anything further, and leaves the room.

He does his best not to think about Straal or the Glenn as he showers. He thinks he succeeds, although he takes care to dry his eyes thoroughly with the towel, just in case. He pulls on his Starfleet issued pyjamas and then takes a deep breath before re-entering the living area. The thought occurs to him that he’ll need more than just a breath to get him through the rest of the evening with Hugh, who is almost certainly itching for a therapeutic heart-to-heart. He diverts himself to a low cabinet in the room and finds a bottle of spirit. He knows Hugh is watching him from the sofa. Paul has the feeling that he’s playing into his partner’s hands, but he really can’t figure out how else to get through the rest of the day.

He pours a neat glass, places it on the night table, and then sits in their bed with a PADD. Hugh hasn’t said a word. The drink disappears sooner than he’d like, and he refills it. This time, he’s certain that he heard Hugh cough.

“Sorry, would you like a glass?” he asks Hugh, with deliberate ease.

“No, thanks,” comes the predictable reply. “You know I don’t like drinking the night before an early shift.”

Paul hums in acknowledgement, and returns to his PADD.

It gets harder to concentrate by glass five. The words are starting to swim on the page, his eyes want to close, and most frustratingly of all, his tongue wants to talk. But Paul Stamets is nothing if not stubborn, so he pushes his brilliant mind to do what he commands, and keeps his lips shut. Instead, he turns off the PADD and lies down.

+++

Hugh doesn’t know what to do. He expected Paul to be his usual prickly self, to do or say something that he could respond to and use it to start a real conversation. Instead, Paul seems to have gone to sleep. Maybe that means that he’s okay. Maybe he needs more time to absorb what happened to Straal. Whatever the reason, Paul has turned out his lights and Hugh does have an early shift, so maybe he should catch whatever shut-eye he can.

He quickly gets ready for bed and tries to get in without disturbing Paul. He needn’t have worried, because the second he turns out the last light in the room, a hand lands on his leg and a mouth on his cheek.

“Dear doctor,” Paul says, a bit too close to his ear, “Please can you do me a favour and put the doctoring on hold for the rest of the night, and just fuck me instead?”

Hugh blinks in the dark. He’s not surprised by dirty talk, or Paul asking for sex, but it’s certainly not where he thought things would go. In the seconds while he gets his bearings, Paul has moved his hand, stroking his cock and tugging on his balls. He’s also nibbling at his earlobe and seems unbothered about whether he gets a response or not.

“Uh-huh,” he gets out. “I think I could manage that,” he says.

He knows this Paul. This is just-past-tipsy Paul, volume turned up, inhibitions lowered. He knows how to play this Paul. Hugh finally gets his limbs into action and flips them over, so that he’s on top. Sometimes Paul likes to fuck himself on Hugh’s cock, but he doesn’t think that this is one of those times. For all that he’s been asked to _put the doctoring on hold_ , he suspects that this is just another form of it all. It’s time to take care of his partner.

For a second, he can’t help but think about how much he loves this man. He places a hand on his chest, while leaning down for a deep kiss. He keeps going until he needs to catch his breath, and uses the opportunity to move further down Paul’s body.

He knows all the right spots to hit, choosing to put a little extra bite into his kisses. There’ll be a deep red trail from Paul’s collar to his hip in the morning, but he’s confident that a bit of pain mixed into the pleasure is exactly what his partner is looking for today.

Certainly, there doesn’t seem to be any disagreement coming forth. Hugh deliberately avoids Paul’s cock, but his body brushes against it as he moves, and he can feel the hardness and wetness between them. It just makes him harder in response, and he has to work to stay focused.

Eventually, he reaches his destination. He takes a quick pause to grab some lube, and starts preparing Paul while giving him a blowjob. He thinks he could do it in his sleep now, a decade on from when he first fucked him. Paul’s words become incoherent and eventually he spurts in Hugh’s mouth.

Paul's usually too sensitive to continue right away, but Hugh knows that he’s looking for something a bit different this evening. He doesn’t remove his fingers, but he edges his body up so they can kiss lazily. Once Paul’s breathing has calmed down, Hugh ramps things up a notch and adds a third finger.

Paul lets out a noise that might be pain, but Hugh has his eye on him and keeps going. He’s rewarded soon enough, as Paul pants, “Fuck, Hugh, just do it already.”

He loves Paul like this, not prickly but certain of what he wants, open and keen, and desperate for him. Hugh Culber is a people pleaser, and part of him is proud to be able to give Paul exactly what he needs.

They fuck slowly to start, as Hugh works to get a tipsy Paul into a rhythm that works. Paul stops fighting him and Hugh pushes ahead, faster and faster until he climaxes. He feels like he’s run a marathon, complete with the sense of accomplishment afterwards.

“Was that good for you, babe?” he asks, after he’s pulled out and flopped down on the bed next to Paul.

He hears a huff of laughter. “Um, _yeah_ ,” Paul replies with a hint of his usual sarcasm. “No complaints here.”


End file.
